It was eleven at night when I heard the front door open.

Joe paused mid-step when he saw me still sitting on the couch. “Why are you still up? I told you to get some rest.”

He walked over, and a faint trace of perfume drifted with him.

Not his usual woody cologne. Something sweet, cloying, soft. A woman's floral fragrance.

My stomach cramped again.

“Stomach acting up again?” Joe frowned and reached for my forehead.

I turned my head, dodging his hand without making it obvious. “I'm fine. Had some warm water. Feeling better.”

My voice was too flat. Flat enough that Joe's hand froze in midair and a flicker of surprise crossed his face.

Before all this, I would have leaned into his shoulder and whined about my stomach hurting too much to sleep, waiting for him to comfort me.

But now the smell of another woman clung to him, and even breathing the same air made me sick.

“Sunny asleep?” Joe pulled his hand back and loosened his tie like nothing had happened.

“Yeah.” I watched how composed he looked, and something inside me almost laughed.

He must have checked himself over before coming home. Scanned for lipstick stains, stray hairs, even smoothed the creases in his collar.

Otherwise I wouldn't have been stupid enough to only find out now that Joe was cheating.

Lillian's belly looked four or five months along. Their little reunion had been going on for at least half a year.

Or maybe longer than I guessed.

“Was the hospital busy today? Long wait?” Joe asked casually while pouring himself a glass of water.

I stared at his back, keeping my voice light. “Not really. But I did see someone who looked a lot like you from behind.”

Joe's body went rigid. The glass stopped just short of his lips for a fraction of a second, a pause so brief most people would never have caught it.

But I'd spent three years pining for Joe Delgado and seven years living with him. I could read his guilt like a book.

“Someone you know?”

Joe turned around. His jaw was tight, and something guarded surfaced behind his eyes.

I lowered my gaze and fiddled with the remote on the coffee table.

“No idea who it was. He was holding a kid's hand, walking a woman into the OB-GYN wing.”

The air in the living room froze solid.

Joe's throat moved as he swallowed. “Oh, really? Are you accusing me of something?”

“I was at the office all day. Obviously wasn't me.”

I looked up and held his gaze, then let out a quiet laugh. ：“I never said it was you. Why so jumpy?”

The moment the words left my mouth, I pulled the papers I'd prepared from under the coffee table and slid them toward him.

Joe glanced down. A small crease formed between his brows.

“What's this?”

I leaned back into the couch, keeping my tone easy. “Prescription forms from the hospital. They need a family member's signature before they'll release the medication.”

The top sheet was a printout of my old medical records.

But underneath, at the very bottom, was the divorce agreement I'd already signed.

Joe took the stack. His eyes landed on the first page, the prescription form.

His fingers kept going, the pages whispering against each other, and the corner of the second sheet peeked out.

My heartbeat spiked. I gripped the remote tighter without realizing it.

In that moment, I couldn't tell whether I wanted him to sign without looking or discover that I wanted out.

But just as Joe was about to reach the last page, a tiny voice called out from the top of the stairs.

“Daddy!”

Sunny came downstairs rubbing his eyes.

Interrupted mid-review, Joe didn't bother looking at the rest. He signed quickly.

“How come you're awake?”

Sunny threw himself into Joe's arms, little hands looping around his neck, and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Daddy, I didn't tell Mommy one single thing about you taking me to the hospital to see Aunt Lillian today.”

“Next time you go see Aunt Lillian, you have to take me again!”

Joe shot me a guilty glance, and only when he saw that my expression hadn't changed did he reach up and give Sunny's nose a gentle tap.

“Sure, buddy. Daddy promises.”

Sunny giggled and buried his face against Joe's chest.

There was a time when a scene like this would have made me smile, when I'd think how wonderful it was that father and son were so close, maybe even feel a twinge of envy that Joe could be so busy yet still win Sunny's adoration.

Now, watching that small head nestled against Joe's chest, all I felt was a dull blade sawing back and forth across my heart.

Five years old, and he'd already learned to cover for his father.

I stood up and turned the family portrait on the side table facedown.

“It's late. I'm going to bed.”

As I passed Joe, that cloying perfume invaded my senses again. I quickened my pace, desperate to put as much distance between us as possible.

The next morning, Joe was still home for breakfast for once.

He glanced at the light makeup I was wearing and looked mildly surprised.

“What's the occasion?”

“You mentioned it a few days ago. There's an auction today you need me at.”

Even though I didn't want to go, a promise was a promise.

Besides, it wouldn't matter much longer. Six more days, and I'd be free.

Joe grunted in acknowledgment and put a piece of bacon on my plate.

I didn't touch it.

Seven years of marriage, and Joe still didn't remember I was allergic to pork.

Sunny chewed on his eggs and mumbled through a full mouth, “Mommy looks so pretty today.”

I glanced at him but didn't respond.

Sunny pouted, unhappy with my cold reaction, but I didn't coax him the way I used to.

Joe didn't notice the tension between Sunny and me. He was staring at his phone, a faint, absent smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

I didn't need to guess who he was texting.

The only person who could make him look that relaxed was Lillian Fox.

At three that afternoon, I walked into the auction house on Joe's arm.

Even with the divorce quietly underway behind the scenes, I kept a polished smile in place.

Several people came over to make small talk.

Joe fielded every greeting with effortless charm, pausing now and then to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear, the picture of a devoted husband.

Once upon a time, those public displays of affection would have set my pulse racing.

Now I just thought he was one hell of an actor.

The auction dragged on, unremarkable, until lot number seventeen appeared and my breath caught.

It was my mother's bracelet.

Years ago, when Joe was scraping together funds for his startup, I'd sold it.

When Joe found out, his eyes had gone red, and he'd promised me, “Sarah, once I make it, I'll buy it back for you. I swear.”

I raised my paddle without hesitation：“Two million.”

Joe glanced at me, brow creasing. “Since when do you like such an old-fashioned bracelet?”

He didn't even recognize it. My mother's last keepsake, and he had no idea.

I let out a quiet, bitter laugh and said nothing.

But a second later, another paddle went up.

“Three million.”

It was Bidder No. 8, seated diagonally across from us.

I looked over instinctively. A young woman in a face mask and cap.

The woman's hat brim was pulled low. I couldn't see her face.

I looked away and raised my paddle. “Three point five million.”

Bidder No. 8 followed immediately. “Four million.”

Whispers rippled through the room.

An ordinary jade bracelet had just been bid up to four million dollars, far beyond market value.

Joe's frown deepened. He pressed down on my wrist. “Sarah, it's just a bracelet. It's not worth spending this much.”

I pulled my hand free and raised my paddle stubbornly：“Four point five million.”

Bidder No. 8 matched it almost instantly. “Five million.”

I gripped the paddle until my knuckles went white.

Five million. That number was already beyond what my personal account could cover.

I took a deep breath and turned to Joe. “Bid for me.”

Surprise crossed his face, but mostly disapproval. “Sarah, calm down. It's a bracelet——”

“It's not just a bracelet.”

I cut him off, my voice raw. “Joe, that's the bracelet I sold. My mother's. I sold it to raise money for you.”

Joe's expression froze.

I said it again：“Bid for me.”

He was silent for a few seconds, then finally raised the paddle. “Five point five million.”

Every pair of eyes in the room locked onto our table.

Bidder No. 8 didn't counter right away.

I thought she'd given up. My heartbeat had just started to slow.

“Six million.” The next second, the woman's voice came, unhurried, almost taunting.

I whipped around to look at No. 8.

She seemed to sense my gaze. Slowly, she removed her mask.

Red lips curved upward, eyes bright with amusement. Lillian Fox.

I turned to Joe.

His face had gone tight, lips pressed thin, his throat working once.

“Sarah, this price is absurd. There's no reason to keep going.”

“That's my mother's heirloom!”

While we argued, the bidding window closed.

The auctioneer's gavel came down.

The jade bracelet went to Lillian Fox.

That gavel might as well have struck my chest. Whatever was left of my faith in this marriage died with it.

I nearly ran out of the auction hall.

At the end of the corridor, Lillian was admiring the jade bracelet on her wrist.

When she saw me, her smile sharpened.

“What a coincidence. We just saw each other at the hospital yesterday.”

“And now here we are again at the auction.”

It clicked. Last night at the hospital wasn't an accident. Lillian had staged the whole thing. But none of that mattered right now. What mattered was getting my mother's bracelet back.

“Give me the bracelet. Name your price.”

Lillian let out a scornful laugh.

“With what money? You couldn't even come up with six million in there.”

I bit my lip. ：“What do I have to do to get you to give it back?”

Lillian stepped back and crumpled to the floor.

“Sarah, it's just a bracelet! Why did you push me?”

She curled up, arms shielding her stomach, eyes reddening on cue.

Joe came rushing from the other end of the corridor and shoved me aside.

Sunny was right behind him, throwing himself next to Lillian. “Aunt Lillian, does it hurt?”

Once he'd confirmed Lillian was fine, Joe looked up at me. His voice cut like a blade. “Sarah, why did you push her?”

Sunny ran up to me, fists clenched, and demanded, “Mommy, why did you push Aunt Lillian? I hate you!”

His small fists were balled so tight they shook.